


Reckless in Rio

by superrich



Series: What Happens on Hiatus [7]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 2016 Summer Olympics, Brazil, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 11:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6565093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superrich/pseuds/superrich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall slips his phone out of his pocket to check if it’s time for lunch. There’s a message from Harry, and he tries to discreetly read it while keeping his phone under the table:</p><p>  <i>Miss you too!</i></p><p>  <i>Wish I was in Rio with you.</i></p><p>  <i>Rubbing sunscreen into your back.</i></p><p>  <i>And your front.</i></p><p>  <i>Arms, legs, anywhere else it’s needed.</i></p><p>  <i>Finished filming for the day, call me when you have a chance.</i></p><p>  <i>Love you x H</i></p><p>Niall rubs his lips together as he shifts in his seat and tries not to think about Harry’s hands all over him. He’ll save those thoughts for later, when he’s alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reckless in Rio

**Author's Note:**

> I spent most of this week in bed, with suspected dengue fever. Which gave me a lot of time to write. Except I was only semi-lucid through most of it. So if this reads like something written in a fever dream, well, that would be why.

On his first morning in Brazil, Niall wakes up to someone trying to break into his room. He opens his eyes with a jolt of fear, and it takes him a moment to remember where he is, in the soft, early morning light filtering through a gauzey, white curtain. He’d arrived late the night before with Eoghan and the rest of the RTÉ production team, and driven straight to the house rented for them in Santa Teresa, in the hills above downtown Rio.

Bas had met them at the airport – after arriving a few days earlier, to do reconnaissance on the house and the routes they’d be taking to get to various Olympic venues. There’s a security briefing scheduled for this morning – which may be a little too late, considering the fact that someone is trying to break into his room right NOW. Fuck. Bas is asleep somewhere in the house, Niall just can’t remember exactly where. It was so late when they got in, and he was so tired, he’d really just stumbled into bed.

Niall doesn’t know whether to scream or to stay deathly quiet. There’s definitely someone outside the window of his room, which is kind of crazy considering he’s on the top floor of what must be a three or four-storey house. What he can remember from last night: winding their way up through narrow streets, past sprawling, colonial mansions, to a house on a hill, surrounded by high walls topped with jagged pieces of broken glass, sparkling under the streetlights. Passing through the gate to the house, manned by security guards, it had felt a little like entering a fortress.

And yet, now there is someone rattling at his window, trying to break inside. On his first fucking morning in Rio. His heart is thumping in his chest as he grabs for something he can use to defend himself. Unfortunately everything within reach is soft furnishings: all pillows and cushions and blankets and sheets. His hand settles on his phone, and that will have to do. Throw that hard enough at someone’s temple, and that would have to stun them for a moment, right?

He slips his feet out from under the warm blankets, onto the cool, tiled floor. The room had been stuffy when he’d gotten in last night, and he’d opened one of the windows to let some air in. And now, on the other side of the curtain, someone is trying to get in through that window. There must have been bars on the windows, he thinks, surely. Or else he wouldn’t have left it open. He takes one tentative step towards the window as a breeze lifts the curtain to reveal the intruder on the other side: a monkey.

“Fuck me,” he gasps, and laughs to himself in relief as he takes a step back to sit on the edge of the bed and try to calm his racing heart. A fucking monkey. At least he didn’t scream and wake up the entire house over a monkey. They’d never let him live it down. He lies back on the bed and takes deep breaths, closing his eyes until he has his breathing back under control. He then opens them to look up at the high ceiling, a fan lazily circling above him, stirring the air in the room.

Just then he hears a bang, and a sharp squeal, and then movement outside the window. He creeps over to the window and peels back to the curtain to see the monkey scrambling up the side of the house, onto the roof. He hears someone call out below, and looks down to see a security guard with a pellet gun in his hand, waving at him. Niall grins back at him, and gives him a thumbs up. Minor crisis averted.

Niall wants to crawl back into bed for a few more hours, but he knows that the adrenaline buzzing through his veins will not be conducive to sleep. Instead he slips on a t-shirt and shorts, and pads downstairs barefoot to the kitchen on the second floor. The doors to all of the other bedrooms are closed, he must be the only one awake.  He smiles as he finds a box of Barry’s Tea on the kitchen counter, silently thanking their producer, Eilís, for always being prepared for everything. He puts on the kettle and makes a cup of tea, before wandering outside to the terrace.

There’s a chill in the air, and he clutches the mug in his hands, trying to soak up all of its warmth. In his heart, Rio is all tropical sunshine and balmy nights, but it’s wintertime right now and cooler than he expected it to to be – although possibly still warmer than a typical summer’s day in Ireland.

He leans against the terrace railing as he sips his tea and looks out over the cobble-stoned street below and the surrounding houses, packed in close together on the undulating hillside. The hill continues to rise behind the house into a forest, which must be prime monkey territory, apparently. Monkey invasions aside, Niall’s pretty happy with the house, it’s so much nicer than being stuck in a hotel for the next three weeks. He’s spent enough time in generically soulless hotels over the past few years to last him a lifetime. This house already feels like it’s going to be memorable.

As if to confirm the fact, at that moment a bird swoops down to perch on the terrace railing. A toucan. A real-life toucan. He tries to think if he’s ever seen a toucan before, but the only thing that comes to mind is Froot Loops cereal boxes. He carefully slides his phone from his pocket, trying to keep very still so as not to scare it away, and manages to snap a picture before it flies off. He pulls up WhatsApp and sends the photo to Harry:

_Toucan Sam says hi ! ( hi from me too ) *smiley face emoji*. weird to be in Rio without you and the other boys. miss you. talk later ?_

He clicks send, and doesn’t wait for a reply before locking and pocketing his phone. He hasn’t quite worked out the time difference with France yet, but he suspects Harry will be in the middle of filming.

∞∞∞∞

The rest of the team surfaces by mid-morning, still a little groggy from jet lag, and they convene at the long table in the kitchen for the promised security briefing from Bas. One of the assistant producers had popped down the road to a juice bar and brought back açai bowls for everyone for breakfast. Eoghan stirs his dubiously, while Eilís assures him that it is some sort of Brazilian superfood packed full of antioxidants that will keep them all healthy and fighting fit for the next three weeks. Sounds like something Harry would love, Niall thinks to himself, and films a short clip of himself stirring the bowl and then scooping a spoonful of it into his mouth, licking the spoon suggestively.

“What are ya doin’, ya nutter!” Eoghan laughs at him.

Niall just grins and shrugs and pockets his phone. He’ll send it to Harry later.

Bas has prepared an actual PowerPoint presentation, projected onto a blank wall behind the table, and they spend a couple of hours going through it, starting with a threat matrix (terrorist attack: likelihood – very low, consequences – extremely serious; carjacking: likelihood – low, consequences – very serious; fan mobbing: likelihood – high, consequences – moderate), and what to do in the event of each scenario. They then go through basic security precautions. Some of it’s common sense – don’t leave the house by yourself without telling someone where you’re going. Some of it applies just to Niall – don’t leave the house by yourself at all (which he’s used to by now). And some of it drives home just how dangerous Rio can be – particularly as Bas pulls up a map showing the favelas adjacent to the Santa Teresa neighbourhood, and then pulls up statistics about just how many guns there are per capita in the city.

Finally he shows them a list of pre-approved restaurants and bars, places he’s scoped out over the past few days which have good security and back doors and emergency exits in case they need to make a quick getaway. But he reminds them that the safest place to be is at the Olympic Park, or other Olympic venues, which have their own strict security measures in place.

Despite the açai bowl, Niall is already hungry again, and he slips his phone out of his pocket to check if it’s already time for lunch. There’s a message from Harry, and he tries to discreetly read it while keeping his phone under the table:

_Miss you too!_

_Wish I was in Rio with you._

_Rubbing sunscreen into your back._

_And your front._

_Arms, legs, anywhere else it’s needed._

_Finished filming for the day, call me when you have a chance._

_Love you x H_

Niall rubs his lips together as he shifts in his seat and tries not to think about Harry’s hands all over him. He’ll save those thoughts for later, when he’s alone.

∞∞∞∞

They take a break for lunch, and sit out at the table on the terrace under a huge fig tree, munching on crusty bread rolls stuffed with roast beef and cheese and tomato and pickled cucumber. It’s delicious.

After lunch, Eilís leads them through the schedule for the next week. Today’s Tuesday, and the opening ceremony is on Friday evening, which gives them three days to pre-record some segments at various locations around Rio. Starting from Saturday, they’ll record The Last Lap each morning at their studio in the media village, and it will be broadcast a few hours later – nighttime in Ireland. Niall and Eoghan will then have the afternoons and evenings free to attend events and support the Irish team, while the rest of the production crew will work on preparing for the next day’s show. Eilís gives them a colour-coded schedule of events that they can attend – their media passes get them in almost anywhere. It’s almost overwhelming, there’s so much going on and Niall doesn’t want to miss a single thing.

It’s going to be early starts, she warns them – leaving the house at 6am sharp each morning, so they have time for a run through of the show before going into hair and make-up. Niall just shrugs. It’s no worse than what he’s used to during promo season – or at least their first few promo seasons, when they’d really had to work for it.

“So, I think that covers everything,” Eilís says, closing her laptop and leaning back in her chair. “Any questions?”

“Just one, chief,” Niall pipes up. “What’s the plan for the rest of the afternoon?”

“Well, you lucky lads have the afternoon off,” Eilís tells him, “while the rest of us have to meet with our local fixers and check our filming permits are in order and confirm interviews and all of that fun stuff.”

“Oh, love, are you trying to make us feel bad for you?” Eoghan says, laughing at her.

“No, not at all,” Eilís says. “I’m just saying: use it wisely, it’s the only free afternoon you’ve got. And think of us as you’re sipping caipirinhas on the beach, or whatever it is you decide to get up to.”

“What do you think, champ?” Eoghan says turning to Niall. “Beach? Caipirinhas?”

Niall grins and nods enthusiastically. “Both. Sold. Let’s do it.”

And in the rush to grab their gear for the beach, and get there while there’s still a few hours of daylight left, Niall forgets to call Harry. He only realises when they’re already on their way to Ipanema. He resolves to call him that night, once he’s figured out the time difference with France.

∞∞∞∞

They do make the most of their afternoon at the beach – a beach that Niall had only glimpsed from their hotel and from moving vehicles the last time he was here, always trying to outrace and outsmart the mobs of fans.

It’s a Tuesday afternoon in winter, or at least what counts as winter in Rio, and yet the beach is buzzing with activity. Bas guides them towards Posto 10, down the south end of the beach, and they secure a spot under a beach umbrella which they rent for the afternoon. On one side of them an energetic game of beach football is in full swing, while on the other side, they have a prime view of a beach volleyball match.

Niall is a little in awe of all of the dark, tan, fit bodies around them, clad only in short shorts, muscles rippling as they run for the ball. He’s never felt so pale and scrawny in comparison, even despite all of the training he’s been doing with Mark this year. And the women are impossibly voluptuous, practically falling out of tiny bikinis, supremely confident with their own bodies in a way which Niall kind of envies.

All of this flesh on display leaves him feeling a little hot and bothered, so he rips off his t-shirt and runs into the surf, calling out to Eoghan to join him. They mess about in the water, which is definitely cool enough to calm him down, until it gets _too_ cold, and they head back into the beach.

Bas has fresh coconuts waiting for them, and Niall flops down on his back, rests the coconut on his chest, and attempts to drink from it – which predictably ends with him spilling coconut water all over his face and chest, and Eoghan and Bas just laughing at him. Reluctantly he concedes that he’ll have to sit up to drink the coconut, and he pushes himself up to a sitting position.

“Not a bad life, is it?” Eoghan says, smiling, as he takes in the view of the beach and the ocean in front of them.

“Christ, what have we done to deserve this?” Niall says, gently shaking his head, like he can’t quite believe it’s all real.

“Can you believe we’re getting paid to be here?” Eoghan asks, and Niall just continues to grin and shake his head.

∞∞∞∞

They join the production team for dinner that night at a little neighbourhood restaurant, just down the road from their house, sitting out at a long table on the footpath, the smell of barbecuing meat thick in the air. There are some half-hearted suggestions to go out afterwards, but everyone is still jetlagged, so they decide to head back to the house and have an early night. Niall finally figures out the time difference with France – making it currently 5am there, definitely too early to call Harry. He tries to will himself to stay awake for a couple more hours, until it’s a reasonable time to call, but within about five minutes his eyes are drooping shut, and he knows it’s a lost cause. He shoots off a quick message apologising for not calling, and is asleep within seconds of shutting off his phone.

The following day they head out to the Olympic golf course. Niall had called in a favour from Rory, and they spend the morning filming a segment with him. Eoghan is a terrible golfer, providing the comic relief, and Niall is thankful that for once he’s not the one falling over while other people laugh at his expense. Most of the time he feels like he’s just mucking around with a couple of mates, and he forgets that the cameras are even there. But eventually Eilís says that they’ve got everything they need, and while Niall is sceptical, she assures him it will all be cut together in post-production to be pure comic gold. As the camera crew packs up, Niall has time to play a few more holes with Rory before they leave. He can’t wipe the smile from his face thinking of the dumb luck that has brought him here, being paid to play golf on the Olympic course, in the tropical sunshine, with one of the best players in the world, who he counts as a friend. What _has_ he done to deserve this?

In the afternoon they go up to the Christ the Redeemer statue to film another segment, and it feels like there are almost more TV crews than tourists up there. It’s impossible not to think of the last time he was here with his boys – the five of them, together, when they still used to do things as a band. Even then it was something they’d done for the cameras, Ben carefully directing them to get the shots he needed, but it had felt real to Niall. He wanted to believe that it really was something they’d tell their grandkids about one day, about how they went there as a band. But maybe Zayn was already planning his escape. He tries to put it out of his mind as he gets miked up, ready to film the next segment.

When they’re done, he snaps a selfie with the statue behind him, and sends it to Harry:

_Jesus Christ ! feels like a lifetime since we were here together. has it really only been two years ?_

∞∞∞∞

The next day they film segments at Copacabana beach, and in the evening RTÉ hosts a party at a fancy restaurant in Leblon for the whole Olympic broadcasting team – all of the presenters and event commentators and production crews and major sponsors. A lot of the commentators are former athletes themselves, and Niall slips into fanboy mode, gushing to them about what a thrill it had been to watch their moments of Olympic glory on TV with his da back in Mullingar, when he was just a kid.

On Friday, they head out to the Olympic Park and spend the day filming at the Athletes’ Village, silly segments with the director of catering about how many tonnes of potatoes the athletes will devour over the course of the Games (and how many tonnes the Irish team alone will be responsible for), and with the director of health services about how many condoms the athletes will go through (and again, how many the Irish team alone will be responsible for). Niall slips a handful of the Olympic-branded condoms into his pocket – just as a souvenir.

As they’re getting ready to film inside one of the ground floor apartments housing several members of the Irish team, Niall steps outside to give the crew more room to set up. He’s checking his phone when he hears someone calling out his name.

“Horan!”

It’s a much deeper voice than the high-pitched squeals that he’s used to, and he looks up to see a guy in a green and gold tracksuit waving to get his attention.

“Hey, I thought that was you!” the guy says in an obviously Australian accent as he approaches, and Niall slips into the half-smile he reserves for fans. Except this guy is not a typical One Direction fan. For a start, he’s a guy. He’s also tall, with shoulder-length golden brown hair, and a smile which looks vaguely familiar.

“Do you remember me?” the guys asks, and Niall nods politely, before he can quite place him, but after a few seconds it comes to him – they’d met earlier in the year, at an Australia Day barbecue in Melbourne.

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall smiling back at him, “you’re Olympia’s friend, right?”

“Mitch,” he says, nodding, his smile getting wider.

“Of course, Mitch, yeah. What are you doing here? Are you competing?” Niall asks.

“Sure am,” Mitch replies, grinning. “Butterfly. 100 metres and 200 metres. And the medley relay too, if I’m lucky.”

“Wow!” Niall says, in genuine awe. “That’s incredible! You never mentioned that you were a world-class swimmer.”

Mitch shrugs. “And you never mentioned you were an international popstar.”

“Yeah, fair play,” Niall says laughing. He always likes meeting new people who don’t make a big deal about the fact that Niall is super-famous.

 “Wow, Olympia is going to be stoked that I ran into you. What are _you_ doing here?” Mitch asks.

“Ah, just a little show for RTÉ , back in Ireland,” Niall says, and notices that Eilís has stepped outside to wave at him, to let him know they’re ready to continue shooting.

“Looks like I’ve got to get back to it,” Niall goes on, “but hey, let’s get a photo for Olympia.”

He holds up his phone and snaps a selfie of the two of them, careful not to cut off Mitch’s head, considering he has a good few inches on Niall.

“I’ll send it to her later,” Niall says, as he shows Mitch the photo.

“Hey, can you send it to me too?” Mitch asks. “My little sister will go mental knowing that I saw you here. She’s still mad at me for not taking any photos at that Australia Day party. I was too busy trying to play it cool,” Mitch adds, winking at him.

Niall laughs. “Yeah, yeah, of course, no worries,” he says, and adds Mitch as a contact on WhatsApp.

“Mate, good luck with everything,” Niall says, pulling him into a loose hug, and he’s a little thrown when he picks up the distinctive scent of Tom Ford cologne. He smells so much like Harry. Niall lets go quickly.

“Yeah, you too,” Mitch says, squeezing Niall’s shoulder as he let’s go.

Niall shrugs and shakes his head. “I’m not doing anything special. But you, my friend, are going to go for gold.”

“Damn straight, I am,” Mitch says, grinning.

Just as he’s about to step inside, Niall glances back to see Mitch still standing there, smiling at him. He gives him a thumbs up. It’s nice to see a friendly face.

∞∞∞∞

That night they watch the opening ceremony on the big-screen TV in the lounge room at the house. Eilís had been trying to get tickets for Niall and Eoghan, but eventually they’d said it would be more fun to watch it from the comfort of the couch, with the rest of the team and a steady supply of beer on hand.

The writers scribble away furiously throughout the ceremony, preparing jokes to gently mock the more ludicrous aspects of the spectacle, of which there are many. It’s like a _carnaval_ parade on anabolic steroids, a battalion of drummers laying down the beat as thousands of dancers in skimpy, sequined costumes samba their way around the stadium in formations meant to represent the Amazon, Iguassu Falls, Sugar Loaf Mountain, and the architecture of Oscar Niemeyer, among other notable symbols of Brazil.

Everyone is loose and happy and extremely loud by the time the Irish team marches into the stadium, big cheers erupting all around. After studying their bios for the past few months, Niall can recognise most of the athletes, and he’s super-excited to soon see them compete. It’s such a huge achievement just to make it to the Olympic Games, the culmination of years, sometimes decades, of training and personal sacrifice, and he desperately wants all of them to win, or at least achieve their personal bests.

It’s late by the time Niall goes to bed, which means it’s early in France, and he finally has a chance to call Harry. But maybe it’s too early in France, because Harry doesn’t pick up. He messes around on his phone for a while, hoping that Harry will call him back, sending the photo with Mitch to Olympia:

_ran into your mate Mitch in Rio ! small world, hey ? feels like you should be here too, being named after the Olympics and all ???_

He gets a reply almost straight away:

_2 of my favourite boys!! U’ve no idea what I’d do to be there with u. Give Mitchy-fish a big hug from me if u see him again! he’s such a sweetheart. love love love xO_

Niall then sends the pic to Mitch:

_hope this makes your sister’s day ! wild to have run into you today, maybe I’ll see you at the pool ? I’ll be the one yelling Aussie Aussie Aussie Oi Oi Oi in an Irish accent ( dont tell the Irish team ) !_

He doesn’t get a reply, or a return call from Harry, before he falls asleep.

∞∞∞∞

Their first episode of The Last Lap the next morning goes off without a hitch. Eoghan delivers the opening monologue like the seasoned professional that he is, Niall throws to one of their prerecorded packages, and then they interview a couple of Olympic legends – given the events have only started that morning, and no medals have been decided yet. They play an Olympic-themed version of Never Have I Ever with their guests (never have I ever gotten off in the Athletes' Village – two ‘I Haves’; never have I ever worn my Olympic medal while having sex – one ‘Never’ and one sheepish ‘I Have’). Eilís is grinning from ear to ear when they finish, and tells them that they aced it.

After the show, Niall pulls on his Team Ireland tracksuit jacket and they go to watch the boxing – women’s lightweight division. He jumps up and down with excitement cheering for Katie Taylor, and when she’s awarded the fight he jumps on top of Eoghan, practically bursting with Irish pride. Eoghan laughs and jokingly warns him to tone it down a notch, lest he lose his voice in the first week of the Games.

After that they stop by the beach volleyball at Copacabana – even though Ireland is not competing (it turns out wind-swept beaches and icy cold water do not really lend themselves to a thriving beach volleyball culture). But a pair of Brazilian men are playing, and the atmosphere is insane – the drumming and cheering from the home team crowd almost drowning out the music being played through the loud speakers. (Niall can’t help but feel a tickle of pride at hearing Drag Me Down at least twice).

His phone had died as they were leaving the beach volleyball, and when he gets home that night he plugs it in to charge. A slew of messages come through: from his family – congratulating him on his first show; from the LIC – affirming that Niall and Eoghan killed it; and from Harry – saying how proud he is of Niall, and that he looked very handsome on camera. He opens a few other random messages, and then one from Louis:

_Nialler! you’re trending looooooolllll. making new friends are ya?_

Niall’s first thought is that it must have something to do with the show, but when he scrolls down he sees that Louis has sent a screenshot from Twitter, of the photo of Mitch and Niall:

_@sarebear99: OMG my big bro @MitchMcLean met @NiallOfficial in Rio! #Ishipit  (he’s gay, so I can say that)_

And then another screenshot below it:

_@sarebear99: geeez, I meant my brother is gay, not Niall. Idk if Niall is gay, probably not. Some people need to just chill OK._

And then another message from Louis:

_he’s cute. #Ishipit. are we going with Nitch or Miall here??? just as well Harry isn’t the jealous type. or is he??_

Niall quickly types out a reply:

_maaaaaate, I collect photos with pro athletes like some people collect stamps. If Harry was jealous, it would’ve all been over ages ago. anyway Mitch is more of an old friend. or a friend of a friend really._

Then he adds:

_PS Miall by a mile lol_

And then, just for professional interest, he opens up Twitter and searches for Mitch McLean, clicking on the first result with a blue and white tick next to the name.

@MitchMcLean

2016 Australian Olympic Swimmer // 22 years old // Aspiring physicist // IG - @MitchMcLean // Most of my tweets are about physics & maths

Niall remembers now what they’d talked about at that Australia Day barbecue in Melbourne. Mitch had been going on about Neil deGrasse Tyson’s Cosmos, saying Niall absolutely had to watch it – although Niall still hasn’t got around to it.

There’s a pinned tweet at the top – a retweet of a CNN Sport story about Mitch. The tweet below it is from a few days ago, saying that he’s going into a social media lockdown to concentrate on his events, and thanking everyone for their support, and that he’ll see them on the other side.

He scrolls down through the next few tweets, mostly retweets of stories about Mitch’s wins in events leading up to the Games, mixed in with random tweets about gravity waves and lasers and what happens when two black holes collide.

Niall stops at a photo of four guys on a beach, wearing only tiny Speedos - a publicity shot for the Olympic team. They look like they could be brothers – all tall and tan and broad-shouldered, archetypes of swimming gods. He clicks on the photo to take a closer look at Mitch’s tattoos: Olympic rings on his chest, some sort of fish below it, and something that looks like an image of a seismic wave. He can’t make out the rest of the tattoos on his right arm.

He clicks back, scrolls to the top, and clicks Follow, before adding him to a private list, called ‘actual friends’.

He then checks the time in France on his world clock app – still only 5.30am. He really wants to call Harry, but settles for sending him a photo instead – a selfie with the two Brazilian beach volleyball players from that afternoon:

_jus chillin with my two favourite volleyball players_

And then adds:

_Kidding ! You’ll always be my favourite. havent seen those yellow shorts in forever btw. still got em? I think we need a beach holiday when this is all over. just the two of us. and those shorts *winking face emoji* *smiley face emoji* *yellow heart emoji*._

Niall falls asleep and dreams about Harry playing volleyball for Team GB, wearing nothing but a tiny pair of shorts printed with the Union Jack, sweat pearling on his tattooed arms and torso. He wakes up half-hard, but has only minutes to get ready for car call, so has to settle for a cold shower to relieve the tension. 6am starts are a bitch.

∞∞∞∞

Episode 2 goes even better than the first, given they now have the results from Day 1 to talk about, and they can interview Sam Bennett – who finished just outside of the medals in the cycling road race. Niall does a little monologue which is basically him crushing on Katie Taylor, and then picks up his guitar and launches into a reworked version of Perfect – _Katie you’re perfect for me_ (which they’d prepared in advance, assuming she was going to slay in Rio). After the show he tweets a link to a video of the song – which gets retweeted more than 200,000 times, and draws more than 1 million views on YouTube by the end of the day, thanks in part to a retweet from @taylorswift13:

_Does this mean I’m no longer your favorite Taylor, @NiallOfficial? *sad face emoji*_

Niall favourites it, and sends a DM back:

_equal favourite ? *winking face emoji* thanks for the RT ! hope you’re well, Swiftie ! say hi to Gomez from me *smiley face emoji*_

(Fans predictably go nuts over Taylor tweeting about a song which is rumoured to originally be written about her, but Niall is far too busy to even notice that minor controversy).

In the afternoon they go back to the boxing, this time to see the boys in the light heavyweight and light flyweight divisions – where Team Ireland notches up another two big wins. They then trek out to the canoe slalom course to see a young kid from Galway win his first heat. Off to a flying start.

In fact, after a few days of competition, Niall is yet to see any Irish athletes lose. Which is not to say that Team Ireland is on a solid winning streak – just the Irish athletes at the events which Niall attends. They test the theory the next day by splitting up – Niall goes back to the boxing (witnessing another big win – this time in the bantamweight division), while Eoghan heads to the men’s hockey (where the Irish team loses their second match, all but relegating them from the competition).

It doesn’t take long for rumours to start that Niall is Team Ireland’s good luck charm, and soon Eilís is fielding countless calls begging Niall to attend every event in which Ireland is competing. Obviously it’s impossible to make it to the morning events, but he tries his best to make it to as many afternoon and evening events as possible. Sometimes he can only stay for a few minutes, but apparently that’s enough for his good luck to rub off. Team Ireland are on track for their most successful Games ever – which leaves Niall and Eoghan with no shortage of guests to interview on The Last Lap.

If they’re still at the Olympic Park for the last event of the night, they normally stop by The Copacabana - a bar set up under a cavernous tent next to the Olympic stadium, reserved for media and athletes and VIPs. They normally only have time for one or two drinks before they have to head home,  but Niall loves it there – athletes from all corners of the world converging in one place, ready to cut loose after four grueling years of sacrifice leading up to the Games.

He’s on the go from before 6am until after midnight each day, but he figures he can sleep when he’s old.

∞∞∞∞

Niall doesn’t run into Mitch again until the end of the first week, when he finally has a chance to spend a night at the swimming. A bunch of medals are up for grabs, so the pool is buzzing with excitement. Niall and Eoghan are right among the action, in the media pen on the pool deck. Alongside them is another pen reserved for swimmers to cheer on their teammates, and Niall spots Mitch in his familiar green and gold tracksuit, hair tied back in a baby bun.

“Hey, Mitch!” Niall calls out, but Mitch doesn’t hear, so Niall weaves through the media throng until he’s at the waist-high barrier separating the two enclosures and tries again.

“Oy! Mitchy-fish!” he calls out, and this time Mitch turns around and breaks into a grin when he spots Niall.

He’s laughing as he walks over to talk to Niall.

“Who told you you can call me that?” he demands when he gets to the barrier.

Niall grins back at him. “Olympia.”

“Of course she did,” Mitch says, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

“She also told me to give you a big hug from her,” Niall adds.

“Well come on, bring it in,” Mitch says, and pulls Niall into a hug, which is a little awkward given the barrier separating them.

“How’s it all been going?” Niall asks when they break apart.

Mitch sighs heavily. “Fourth in the 100 and fifth in the 200,” he says through gritted teeth as he shakes his head. “This fucking close,” he adds, and holds up his index finger and thumb with just a few millimetres separating them.

“Shit, man, that sucks,” Niall says, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. He wishes he had something more profound to say. Niall’s suffered two devastating losses in his life, and yet both of those led to success beyond all of his wildest dreams. He’s just not quite sure that anyone else can be quite as lucky as he has been.

Mitch shrugs. “Gotta move on, gotta focus on the medley relay. We’ve qualified second fastest, and I think we’re in with a really good chance to win.”

“Wow! That’s amazing,” Niall says, genuinely impressed.

“Hey, I hear you’ve become a bit of a good luck charm. Any chance some of that luck can rub off on me?” Mitch asks.

Niall laughs. “Nah, I don’t know what that’s all about, just Irish folklore I think. Besides, I think it only works for the Irish team.”

“I’m half-Irish,” Mitch says, staring intently at Niall.

“Oh, really?” Niall says, trying to sound surprised, like he didn’t already know that Mitch’s last name is McLean, and that he’d engaged in just a little light cyber-creeping.

“Look, at this stage I’ll take whatever I can get,” Mitch says, biting his lip, and Niall really wants to help him out.

“How does it work, any way?” Mitch goes on.

Niall shrugs. “I’ve no idea.”

“Do they, like, pat you on the head or rub your belly or something like that?” Mitch asks.

Niall shrugs again, but then pulls up his shirt. “Have at it if you want,” he says, raising his eyebrows and daring Mitch to touch him.

Mitch grins and stares at Niall, not breaking eye contact as he reaches a hand out and rubs a few quick circles on Niall’s belly. Niall’s secretly happy that all of the abdominal work he’s been doing with Mark has started to pay off – he’s never going to be Liam-level ripped, but he doesn’t look half-bad at the moment.

Niall looks away as he pulls his shirt back down. “Hope that helps,” he says, as he tries to calm the butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

“If we win, I guess I’ll know who to come and thank,” Mitch says.

“No way,” Niall says, looking back at him. “If you win... WHEN you win, that’s 100% yours to own.”

“Well, mine and my three teammates, I guess,” Mitch says, nodding.

“Oh, hey,” he adds, “I heard my sister started a bit of a shitstorm on Twitter with that photo I sent her. I’m really sorry, I hope that didn’t get you into any trouble. I told her just to keep it to herself, but teenage girls, hey. They’re a force of nature.”

Niall laughs and shrugs. “No worries, mate. Par for the course. Storm in a teacup for half a second, but I’m sure that it’s already been forgotten.”

Mitch smiles and then leans in to whisper in Niall’s ear, “let’s just hope that no one snapped a photo of me rubbing your belly, in that case.” He winks at Niall as he leans back, and Niall is suddenly very conscious of the fact that there are about 10,000 people in the stands opposite them. 10,000 people who are surely focused on the swimming, Niall tells himself, and not on what’s happening on the pool deck. He hopes.

Niall shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Whatevs, as my mate likes to say,” and then Niall pauses, wondering if he can still call Zayn a mate, when they haven’t talked in more than a year. “Liked to say,” he corrects himself.

When Niall returns to the front of the media pen, Eoghan smirks at him.

“What was that all about?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Niall smiles and shrugs. “Just sharing my good luck around with an old friend. A friend of a friend.”

“As long as you know what you’re doing, mate,” Eoghan says, and slings an arm around Niall’s shoulders as they watch the next group of swimmers stand up on the blocks, just a few short minutes separating some of them from glory, and the others from crushing defeat.

∞∞∞∞.

They go to the boxing the next night, to see Katie Taylor qualify for the gold medal fight. Niall yells himself hoarse, and Eoghan just rolls his eyes and passes him a packet of throat lozenges, hoping that his voice will have recovered by the morning.

They stop by The Copacabana after the boxing, and Niall gets talking to a young guy from Timor-Leste, there for the marathon, the only athlete from his country competing in the Games. He has to explain to Niall exactly where Timor-Leste is. Niall had guessed it was in Africa – and is a little embarrassed that he’s way off the mark. With all of the travel he’s done over the past few years, he thought he had a pretty good grasp on geography. The Timorese runner then goes on to say that he has cousins in County Westmeath, and that there’s a big Timorese community there, all working in the chicken factories.

Niall is blown away yet again by what a small world it is, and offers to buy the guy a drink. He accepts a juice, given that he’s still preparing for the marathon. Niall heads to the bar to order the juice, and a beer for himself. He’s just finished paying for the drinks when he feels a hand on his shoulder, and turns around to find himself face-to-face with Mitch. Or face to neck, really. Niall looks up to meet his eyes, smiling, and then looks down at the medal hanging around his neck. Gold.

“No way!” Niall exclaims, slapping his arm and pulling him into a tight hug. “Congratulations! How does it feel?”

“Best feeling in the world,” Mitch says, smiling from ear to ear. “Feels like I’m floating.”

“Like in zero gravity?” Niall asks, and immediately regrets his lame astrophysics joke.

But Mitch continues smiling and nods enthusiastically. “Exactly.”

“Can I... touch it?” Niall asks, looking down at the medal.

Mitch nods, so Niall reaches up with his left hand and takes the medal in it, rubbing over the smooth metal with his thumb.

“Woooow,” he says, laughing, “it’s so much bigger than I thought it would be.”

“That’s what he said,” Mitch blurts out, and then covers his face with his hands as he groans in embarrassment. “God, I can’t believe I just said that, I’m the worst.”

Niall just laughs.

Then Mitch leans in to whisper in Niall’s ear, “it’s true though, I’ve never had any complaints.” And then he’s pressing himself up against Niall, and Nial can feel something big and hard rubbing against his crotch. He leans back on the bar, to try to put some distance between the two of them, but somehow that only results in him tilting his hips up, leading to more friction when Mitch presses in closer. Mitch drops his face down to nuzzle into Niall’s neck, damp hair tickling Niall’s shoulders, and Niall knows this is the thin edge of the wedge.  He absolutely can’t let it go any further. He reaches a hand up to Mitch’s arm, ready to push him away, but instead ends up kneading his bicep. It’s only been a few weeks, but that’s still a few weeks too long since he’s had a warm body pressed against him. It feels good. Really good.

Shit, Horan, get it together, he tells himself, and then says out loud, “fuck, I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” He meant to say it forcefully, but it comes out as more of a whisper.

“Do you want to take this somewhere else?” Mitch asks, as he presses tiny kisses into Niall’s neck and slips a hand down the back of Niall’s jeans, grabbing his arse and pulling him in even closer.

“No, fuck, I really can’t do this,” Niall manages to say more loudly this time. And then louder still, “I have a boyfriend.”

And that’s enough to make Mitch pull away, a shocked expression on his face.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, I’m such an idiot,” Mitch says. “I had no idea. I talked to Olympia, and she said she didn’t think you were seeing anyone...”

“I’ve gotta go,” Niall blurts out, and turns to grab the juice on the bar behind him, leaving the beer behind. He doesn’t make eye contact with Mitch as he flees the scene of the crime, or whatever you want to call what just happened. He feels flushed, whether from arousal or embarrassment he’s not quite sure.

He spots his Timorese friend standing by himself, and Niall hands him the juice and apologises for taking so long, and for having to leave right away. He then finds Eoghan in the middle of a conversation with a few Irish team officials, and just drags him away without an apology.

“We’ve gotta go now,” Niall says urgently, and turns around to check that Bas is trailing behind them. They hotfoot it to their waiting driver in record time, and Niall crawls into the backseat, curling up into a ball and clamping his eyes shut.

As they pull away from the kerb, Eoghan asks Bas what’s wrong with Niall, and Bas, to his credit, says nothing. But fuck, he must have seen everything. Always keeping a discreet distance, but never letting Niall out of his sight. Fuck! What’s he done? he thinks, as he rubs a hand over his face and wishes he could delete the last hour from his life. Wishes they’d never stopped in at The Copacabana tonight.

When they get back to the house, Niall runs up four flights of stairs and flings himself face down on his bed, punching the mattress a few times, the blanket muffling his yells. He spends a few minutes trying to get his breathing under control, and then rolls over onto his back and pulls up Harry’s number on his phone. He’s a little surprised when Harry actually answers.

“Niall! What’s up?” Harry asks, sounding sunny and carefree.

He waits long seconds for Niall to respond, while Niall just breathes heavily and tries to blink back tears.

“Are you OK, hun?” Harry asks, sounding more concerned this time.

“Not really,” Niall manages to squeak out, his voice shaky.

“Oh, Ni,” Harry sighs. “What happened? Can you tell me what happened?”

“Not really,” Niall squeaks out again, with no idea how to explain it to Harry.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Harry asks gently.

“Not really,” Niall says for the third time, and then starts blabbering. “Harry, I’m so sorry, I’m really, really sorry. I fucked up. Big time. I don’t know how to explain it. But I’ll try to get my shit together and call you in the morning. I love you. I love you so, so much.” And then he hangs up, before Harry can even respond.

∞∞∞∞

Niall sleeps fitfully, and is still in bed at 6am the next morning. There’s knocking on his door a few minutes later, and when he doesn’t answer Eilís enters any way.

“Oh love, are you OK?” Eilís sighs, as she sees him curled up in a fetal position. “Eoghan said you weren’t feeling well last night?”

Niall doesn’t respond, so she sits down on the bed and presses the back of her hand to his forehead.

“Oh god, you’re burning up,” she says. “Christ, I hope it’s not Zika virus.”

“I’m fine,” Niall croaks out. “Just give me a few minutes,” he says, stumbling to his feet, but the whole room is spinning, and he has to lie down again almost straight away.

“Love, I don’t think you’re fine. Listen, I’m going to get one of the APs to stay back and make sure you’re OK, and we’ll get a doctor out to see you this morning.”

“No, I want to do the show,” Niall says weakly, barely able to keep his eyes open.

“Niall, you’re in no state to do the show this morning,” Eilís says forcefully. “Don’t worry, we’ll get by without you.”

Niall moans feebly, and Eilís rubs his shoulder.

“Rest up, love, hope you feel better soon,” she says, and slips out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.

One of the assistant producers comes up half an hour later with a big bottle of water and an açai bowl, and tells him the antioxidants will do him a world of good. Food is the last thing on his mind, though, and he just leaves it on the bedside table untouched.

He dozes for the next hour, not really ever falling asleep, and when he opens his eyes the açai bowl has melted into a magenta-coloured soup. He carries it over to the window, leaves it on the small ledge outside, and then closes the window firmly. Maybe the monkey will enjoy it.

He lies back down and thinks about calling Harry. He knows he has to, but he still doesn’t know what to say, how to explain what happened last night.

One of the Irish team doctors comes by at 10am, which just makes Niall feel even more sorry for himself. Not only has he screwed up, shirked his professional responsibilities, and forced an assistant producer to have to babysit him for the day, but now he’s diverting resources away from the Olympic team.

She does a thorough check-up and concludes that his temperature is only slightly raised, and there’s no sign of Zika, or of any other tropical virus. She does diagnose him with an outrageously inflamed throat (outrageously inflamed? Is that really a proper medical diagnosis?), and leaves him with some prescription lozenges and strict orders to rest his voice.

He sucks on a lozenge until it completely dissolves, numbing his mouth and throat. Then he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep, wishing there was a lozenge to numb his feelings of self-loathing and remorse.

When he opens his eyes again it’s already late afternoon, and someone is tapping at his door. He calls out for them to come in, and Eilís enters.

“Feeling any better?” she asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Much better,” Niall says, pulling himself up to a sitting position. “I think, maybe I was just exhausted.”

“It has been a lot of late nights and early mornings,” Eilís says. “I’m sorry if we’ve been pushing you too hard.”

“No, no, no, it’s not your fault,” Niall assures her. “Really, I need to know my own limits.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she says, smiling at him. “Listen, there’s someone here to see you.”

Niall freezes.

“Should I send him up, or do you want to come downstairs to see him?”

Fuck. Mitch. Niall has no idea how he managed to find out where they are staying, and even less idea what he’s going to say to him. Fuck.

“I’ll come downstairs,” Niall says quickly. “Just give me a minute.”

Eilís leaves, and Niall jumps in the shower quickly, and then pulls on a clean t-shirt and joggers. When he gets downstairs Eilís is sitting at the kitchen table, and she points him through to the lounge room.

Niall enters the room and his jaw drops wide open. Because it’s not Mitch. It’s Harry.

He thinks he might start crying, so he pulls Harry into a fierce hug, burying his face into Harry’s shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” Niall asks, his voice shaky.

Harry rubs small circles into Niall’s back with his fingertips, not letting him go. “I was worried about you. I was so worried about you. I needed to know you’re OK.”

Niall closes his eyes, trying to hold back tears. When he opens them again he lets Harry go, but grabs his hand and pulls him up the stairs behind him.

Niall closes the door firmly when they get to his room, and then turns to look at Harry, eyes big and round and so full of confusion and concern.

“Now can you tell me what’s going on?” Harry asks softly.

Niall closes his eyes and sighs deeply, then opens them again and nods. But first he lies down on the bed, flat on his back, and then pats the space next to him, motioning for Harry to join him. When Harry lies down Niall grabs his hand and pulls it up to his lips, kissing it softly, and then rests both of their hands on his chest. He wonders if Harry can feel just how fast his heart is beating.

For a moment he wonders if it would be easier to do this through robot voice app. He is supposed to be on vocal rest. But then he realises that would be infinitely worse. He stares up at the ceiling, takes a deep breath and hopes for the best.

“I ran into a friend from Australia here. Or more of a friend of a friend, really,” he starts.

“Mitch McLean?” Harry asks.

Niall swallows and nods. “Yep. I saw him a couple of times. And maybe I flirted with him. Just a tiny little bit. But then, last night I ran into him again, and he’d won. Gold. And he was on top of the world, just buzzing with adrenaline and excitement. And he came onto me.”

“Did you sleep with him?” Harry asks, his voice sounding strangely small.

“No!” Niall says forcefully. “How could you even think that?”

“Honestly, I haven’t known what to think since you called me. Every worst case scenario has run through my mind.” And then Harry goes on, “did you kiss him?”

“No,” Niall says, shaking his head.

“Did you want to kiss him?”

“No, not even,” Niall says, continuing to shake his head.

“So... what are you beating yourself up about? I’m not sure I understand.”

“I guess I didn’t push him away quite as fast as I could have. For a moment, it felt good to have a hot body pressed against mine. It felt good to be wanted like that.”

“Oh, Ni,” Harry says, “I’m sorry I’ve been a shit boyfriend. It’s just, I’ve been so busy and you’ve been so busy, and the time difference has been a bitch.”

“Harry, no,” Niall says, and wriggles around on the bed until he can rest his head on Harry’s chest, and looks up at him, finally ready to look him in the eye. Harry shoves a pillow under his head, so it’s easier to look down at Niall. “I’m the one who should be apologising,” Niall goes on.

“I don’t know what there is to apologise for,” Harry says.

“I don’t think you get it,” Niall says angrily, and he hopes Harry realises he’s angry with himself, not with Harry. “If I saw you doing what I did, if I saw you in that situation, I’d be livid. Absolutely furious.”

Harry rests a hand on Niall’s head, stroking his hair. “I forgive you,” he says, calmly looking Niall in the eye.

Niall closes his eyes and breathes deeply.

“It’s funny,” Harry goes on. “I always thought that if you were going to cheat on me, it would be with a woman.”

Niall opens his eyes, a little shocked. “You thought I’d cheat on you?”

“No, not really. Just... in an abstract sense, I guess. Like, I don’t know, maybe you miss sleeping with women?”

“Are you kidding me?” Niall asks, trying not to laugh. Harry just shrugs. Niall reaches out to cup Harry’s cheek in his hand, and then pushes himself up to kiss him, lips fitting together like pieces of a puzzle.

“This is by far the best sex I’ve had in my life,” Niall says when they come up for air, and Harry’s lips twist into a tiny smirk. “I don’t even want to think about sleeping with anyone else.”

“Go on then,” Harry says, full on smirking now. “Keep telling me how good I am at ravishing you.”

“Well, I could keep telling you,” Niall says, grabbing Harry’s hand and pulling it down to his crotch. “Or we could skip to you actually ravishing me?”

“I like that idea even more,” Harry says, grinning. “Especially as we only have...” and he grabs Niall’s wrist to check the time. “30 more hours.”

“You came all this way for a day and a half?”

Harry shrugs. “You would have done the same for me. You _have_ done the same for me.”

“Not under such shitty circumstances though,” Niall sighs.

“Let’s just focus on the fact that right now I’m here with you in Rio, and there’s no place I’d rather be,” and he pulls Niall into another kiss, stepping things up a notch this time as he works his tongue into Niall’s mouth.

When they break apart, Niall gets up from the bed and quickly strips off all of his clothes. He then rummages around in his suitcase until he finds a bottle of lube and a condom, and tosses them onto the bed.

 “What is this?” Harry asks, grinning at the foil packet, the Olympic rings printed on one side, and the Rio Olympic mascot printed on the other. “Is this going to give me the strength and stamina of an Olympic athlete?”

“I guess there’s only one way to find out,” Niall says, clambering back onto the bed to work on getting Harry’s clothes off of him.

Niall is left extremely well ravished, but he gives full credit to Harry for that. A condom is just a condom, after all.

∞∞∞∞

It’s dark by the time they make it back downstairs to find Bas waiting in the kitchen, ready to give Harry a stern lecture about turning up in Rio without a bodyguard. He then presents an abridged version of the security briefing, and gives Harry strict instructions to not go anywhere without Bas’s accompaniment.

That night they go out with the rest of the team to the restaurant down the road, and sit out at the long table on the pavement again. Everyone is thrilled that Niall has bounced back, and a little starstruck by his visitor. Grown men and women, consummate media professionals, reduced to giggling schoolgirls in Harry’s presence. Niall’s seen it before. It’s the Harry effect. Even Eoghan isn’t entirely immune to Harry’s charm, swapping seats with one of the writers to sit next to him and ask all about what it’s like to work with Christopher Nolan.

Niall’s still supposed to be resting his voice, so he lets Harry do most of the talking, sitting opposite him and smiling fondly as he shares stories from the movie set. They tangle their legs together under the table, Niall rubbing up the back of Harry’s calf with his foot.

Niall doesn’t want the night to end, and when they hear samba playing down the road the group decides to wander down in that direction after dinner. Harry stumbles a bit on the cobblestones, maybe because of the caipirinhas he’d had with dinner, or maybe because of his boots. But Niall is quick to wrap an arm around his shoulders to help keep him upright. They soon come upon a bar with people overflowing out onto the street, which has been closed off to traffic. A band is set up just inside, all sorts of percussion and guitars and a trombonist and a singer. Niall has no idea what she’s singing, just that it sounds beautiful and sensual and poetic.

Couples are dancing out on the street, and soon Eilís is pulling Niall out to join them. Niall knows he’s supposed to take the lead but he has no idea how to dance samba, so he just looks around at the other couples and tries to copy what they’re doing. Soon Eoghan and Harry join them with a couple of the assistant producers, all looking equally awkward in comparison to the Brazilians dancing around them. After a couple of songs Harry cuts in, and then they have their arms wrapped around each other, and it feels slightly less awkward, because they just seem to fit together perfectly.

It’s midnight by the time they make it back to the house, and Niall shouldn’t be so tired, considering he slept most of the day, but he is. He feels himself drifting off to sleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow, letting Harry wrap himself around Niall for a change.

“We’re good, yeah?” Harry asks, as he wraps his arm around Niall’s waist, and presses soft kisses into his back.

“Yeah, we’re good,” Niall murmurs, and pulls Harry’s hand up to kiss it, before succumbing to sleep.

He sleeps deeply, but has troubling dreams. He’s in a soundproof room, looking through glass into the room next door, where Tom Hardy has Harry pinned up against the wall. They look like they’re on the verge of making out, and Niall bangs and bangs on the glass to try to stop it from happening, but no one can hear him. And then Tom Hardy morphs into Kenneth Branagh, and it all gets _really_ weird. Niall wakes up feeling unsettled, but then remembers Harry is lying next to him, practically on top of him, and the dream quickly slips out of his grasp.

∞∞∞∞

Harry begs to come to the studio with them in the morning, but Bas strictly forbids it, warning Harry not to leave the house until they get back at lunchtime. Harry pouts, but Bas is unmoved. Niall hates to lose six hours with him when they only have 30 to begin with, but at the same time he knows Harry would just be a distraction in the studio, and he really needs to be on his game today, to make up for missing yesterday.

The show goes smoothly, and when they’ve finished recording Niall checks his phone to find a string of messages from Harry:

_Far out! There’s a rabid monkey trying to break into your room!_

And then there’s a short video of a monkey hissing and angrily rattling the bars on the window.

_Why wasn’t this mentioned in the security briefing? Huge oversight._

Niall grins and texts back:

_sorry ! should’ve warned you not to hide any bananas in your bag ! the security guards have a pellet gun if you need it. just leaving the studio now, should be home soon xx_

They pick up lunch on the way home, and Niall and Harry sit out on the terrace under the fig tree, munching on bread rolls washed down with passionfruit juice. Harry admits that he broke all the rules and went for a run this morning (“Come on! I was so bored! You abandoned me. What was I supposed to do?”), sweet-talking one of the security guards into joining him. Niall glares at him in mock disapproval, but then drapes himself around Harry’s shoulders to look at the photos Harry took on his run.

“Look! 13 cats!” Harry exclaims, showing Niall a photo on his phone of a decrepit colonial mansion, cats, cats and more cats perched on the wall and peeking through the gaps in the slats of the gate.

“And you can see the Jesus statue from just down the street,” Harry says, showing him a photo of a graffitied wall, with Christ the Redeemer just visible high atop a forested hill in the distance.

Harry is just so excited about everything that he saw: a bright blue vintage VW Beetle, parked in front of a bright pink stucco wall; a house with three Alsatians poking their paws and heads through gaps in a wall above the garage; lots of photos of letterboxes (“but aren’t these just the most beautiful letterboxes you’ve ever seen?”); a house completely covered in exquisite tiles; a bright yellow vintage tram trundling down the cobble-stoned street. It’s impossible not to share in his enthusiasm.

“Do you know what this means?” he asks, zooming in on some words stenciled onto a graffiti-covered wall: _acabareis todos por morrer de conforto_.

“Hey, I speak a tiny bit of Spanish, not Portuguese,” Niall says, shaking his head.

“They’re practically the same though, aren’t they?”  

Niall takes a closer look and mulls it over. “I think it means: you’ll all end up dying of comfort. But I’m probably wrong.”

“Hmmmm,” Harry hums, “I guess there are worse things to die from, though?”

“Spoken like a true multi-millionaire,” Niall says, laughing.

“Speak for yourself!” Harry says, poking Niall in the ribs and laughing too.

∞∞∞∞

After lunch they manage to convince Bas to let them go to the beach. He rules out Copacabana and Ipanema, but suggests a small beach below Sugarloaf Mountain, where they’re less likely to attract attention. The beach is pretty and quiet, and has an amazing view of Sugarloaf, but the water is kind of dirty, so they mostly just lie on beach towels under an umbrella, and catch up on the last few weeks of each other’s lives. At one point Niall has to actually sit on his hands, to remove the temptation to reach over and touch Harry, which would only lead to them finding themselves in a compromising position. Maybe coming to the beach wasn’t such a good use of time.

After a couple of hours they decide to leave, before it gets dark. They brush off the sand, pull their jeans back on, and are heading back to the car when Bas mentions that he can get them through the VIP entrance to Sugarloaf Mountain, if they want to go up there. Niall and Harry turn to look at each other, both grinning and eagerly nodding.  They stop to leave their towels in the car and grab jackets, and within a few minutes they’ve been whisked onto the cable car and are already halfway up the mountain.

They stand pressed shoulder to shoulder, gazing out at the view around them – the ocean on one side and the city of Rio on the other, buildings snaking between the mountains like a river of concrete running down to the sea.

“Hey, have you seen that Bond film where they come to Rio?” Niall asks.

Harry shakes his head.

“What?! It’s a classic. There’s an epic battle scene on this very cable car.” Niall then proceeds to reenact the scene, doing his best Roger Moore impression, and not a bad impression of a Bond girl either. It has Harry doubled over laughing.

“And then Bond throws a chain over the cable, and Holly Goodhead grabs onto him, and they fly down the cable like that to escape Jaws.”

“Wow, I hope it doesn’t come to that when we have to get back down,” Harry says, still laughing.

“Why? You don’t trust me to get you down safely?” Niall asks, mock offended.

“Oh, so you’re Bond in this scenario, are you?” Harry replies.

“Of course I’m Bond!” Niall scoffs.

“So I guess that makes me the Bond girl?” Harry says, laughing.

“Well, you do have the legs for it,” Niall says, and takes a small step back to admire Harry’s thighs, clad in skin tight jeans. “And at least you’re not the Bond villian! I guess Bas will have to play him.”

And they both turn around to look at Bas, standing over the other side of the cable car. He catches them looking at him and raises an eyebrow. They just smile at him and wave innocently, and then turn back around, giggling between themselves.

“I mean, he does look a little creepy, doesn’t he?” Harry whispers.

“Oy!” Niall says defensively. “He’s a sweetheart with a heart of gold, and you know it. I don’t want to hear a bad word said about him.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry agrees, and then reaches his hand up to squeeze Niall’s bicep. “And I do think you’d get us down safely. I just might need to practice grabbing onto you and not letting go.”

Niall grins at him. “I’d be on board with that.”

It’s chilly when they get out at the top, a brisk wind whipping over the mountain. They explore a bit, and then stop to get hot tea – both to stay warm and to soothe Niall’s outrageously inflamed throat. They then find a spot a little sheltered from the wind, where they can look back over Rio and the bay, as the city lights start to flicker on.

“What an incredible city,” Harry says, sounding a little awestruck by the view.

“ _Cidade maravilhosa_ ,” Niall says in a pitch perfect Brazilian accent, luxuriating in the lyrical sounds.

“I thought you didn’t speak Portuguese?” Harry says, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t,” Niall responds. “That’s the only Portuguese I know. It means ‘marvellous city’.”

And as if to drive home the point, at that moment Christ the Redeemer emerges above a layer of hovering clouds, a beacon of light and hope watching over the city.

Niall and Harry smile at each other, and Harry notices that Niall is shivering.

“Oh, Ni, are you cold?” Harry asks, reaching out to rub his arm.

Niall nods, and pulls the zipper on his jacket up to his neck, and then breathes into his hands, to try to warm them up.

“Come here,” Harry says, and hugs him from behind, wrapping his arms around him and trying to share his warmth. They stay like that for a few minutes, the two of them gazing out over the city as dusk tints the clouds orange and pink.

Niall breaks the silence. “Harry, I don’t think this is working.”

He feels Harry go tense behind him.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, his voice gone cold.

Niall turns around to see hurt and shock and confusion in Harry’s eyes.

Harry flinches when Niall reaches up to touch his arm.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Harry asks, his voice trembling.

“Noooooo!” Niall exclaims. “God, no. How could you even think that?”

“Um, because you said it’s not working,” Harry says, still sounding hurt. “That’s normally how a break-up begins.”

“Christ, I’m an idiot, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. What I was trying to say was, I love everything about you, and about us, but seeing each other every now and then, whenever we can wrangle a few days in the same place together, isn’t enough. I want more. I want this to be a serious relationship.”

“OK,” Harry says slowly, staring intently at Niall. “What are you proposing?”

Niall takes a deep breath. “I think we need to be together, properly. Like, not accept work at the same time that splits us apart. Tag team instead, take turns. I’ll support you in what you choose to pursue, and you do the same for me. And I think we need to agree to like, not spend more than a certain amount of time apart.”

“OK,” Harry says, nodding seriously. “How much time are you thinking?”

“Like, a week?” Niall says, looking at Harry expectantly.

Harry continues to nod. “Yeah, a week, I think we can make that work,”“

Really?” Niall asks, surprised.

“Of course, I want what you want. I want this to be serious. It’s just, have you thought this through. I mean, I’d already signed onto the film when you were offered this job in Rio. How would you feel if you’d had to give this up? I just don’t want to hold you back from doing everything that you want to do.”

“But that’s the thing, though,” Niall says, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t be holding me back from anything. To be honest, I never really got it before. I used to look at other people’s relationships, and just think ‘why’? Like, all I could see was compromise and sacrifice, and it always seemed like one person was holding the other person back. And maybe I was too young and scared of missing out on anything, but I couldn’t understand why you’d give up what you really wanted for someone else. But I get it now. I’m not giving up anything when I’m with you. We’re stronger as a team. Everything’s better when we’re together.”

Harry is smiling, but it looks like there are tears welling in his eyes. He pulls Niall into a hug.

“I want what you want,” Harry repeats, grabbing on as if for dear life.

When he finally lets go he looks Niall in the eye and asks, “so what happens next?”

“Well, I guess, after I finish up in Rio, I’ll come and join you in France?”

Harry smiles and nods. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

“But then, Bobby has his surgery coming up in September, and I promised that I’d go and stay with him while he recovered, help him get back on his feet.”

Harry shrugs. “Well then I’ll come and join you in Mullingar.”

“Really? You’d do that?”

“Of course I would. I love Ireland. I love Bobby. I love YOU. And I’m sure we can sort out some studio time in Dublin. I’ll just fly out the people I need for it.”

“It’s that easy, is it?” Niall says, finally breaking into a smile.

“Yep, it’s that easy,” Harry says, smiling back at him.

Niall closes his eyes for a moment and breathes in deeply. He wants to believe.

∞∞∞∞

It’s dark by the time they leave the mountain, watching the city lights curve around the arc of the bay as the cable car descends. There’s really only time for Harry to stop by the house, grab his bag and say some quick goodbyes before he has to head for the airport. Niall goes with him, the two of them wrapped around each other on the back seat, murmuring into each other’s ears, while Bas rides with the driver in the front.

“Thanks for coming,” Niall says, running his hand over the back of Harry’s head, the short hair tickling his fingertips.

“You’re very welcome,” Harry says, slipping a hand up under Niall’s t-shirt, and stroking his lower back. “Just don’t scare me like that again. I was so worried. You’ve no idea. I called Bobby, I thought maybe something had happened to your family. But he said everyone was fine. By the way, you need to call him more often, he worries about you too. And then I called Eoghan, and he said he didn’t know what was going on. But he gave me the address of the house when I said I wanted to send you something. I even called Louis.”

“No, you didn’t!” Niall says, in mock disbelief.

Harry raises his eyebrows and nods. “Desperate times. He sounded very surprised to hear from me. But he was no help at all.”

“I’m so sorry to have put you through that,” Niall says, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“And one more thing,” Harry adds. “Please don’t ever make me think you’re breaking up with me, when really you’re doubling down.”

Niall tilts his head up to look at Harry. “Never again,” he says, and then reaches up to press a kiss into Harry’s cheek. Harry catches his chin and pulls him in, until they’re kissing for real.

∞∞∞∞

Niall slows down a bit in the second week of competition, focusing on The Last Lap and making it to a few key events, rather than trying to get to everything. He doesn’t go back to The Copacabana.

He’s not sure how Eilís does it, but after finding out that José Carreras is in Rio for the Games, she manages to book him for the show. Niall sings a duet with him of _Amigos Para Siempre_ , his Barcelona Olympic anthem. Niall can’t quite believe that he’s singing with one of the greatest tenors in the world, but he manages to hold his own, delivering the lines in Spanish with dramatic flair. The video goes viral.

The next day Rory comes on the show, gold medal proudly hanging around his neck. Niall can’t stop grinning at the medal, so thrilled for him. At one point during the interview, Rory holds the medal up and asks if Niall wants to touch it. Niall shakes his head quickly, and moves straight on to the next question.

After the show Niall finally gets around to sending a message he’s been mentally composing for days:

_hey. sorry about the other night. didnt mean to give you the wrong idea. it’s not a huge secret that I have a boyfriend. it’s just not that many people know about it for now. hope I didnt ruin your celebrations. congratulations again._

A reply comes through a few hours later:

_Hey man, I’m the one who should be apologising. I guess I just wanted to share that gold medal feeling with someone, and got a little carried away. Sorry to have put you in that position. Maybe I’ll see you back down in Melbourne next summer? With your boyfriend? I’d love to meet him. I hope he knows just how lucky he is._

∞∞∞∞

Eilís manages to get tickets to the closing ceremony for the whole production team – not just Niall and Eoghan. Maracaña is packed to the rafters, and the energy buzzing through the stadium is insane, 90,000 people intent on partying like there’s no tomorrow. Which there isn’t for Niall and Eoghan – they’re on the first flight out in the morning. But tonight, Niall’s just so happy to be there with the team, everyone standing and dancing from beginning to end. All of the greatest legends of Brazilian music are there to perform: Caetano Veloso, Gilberto Gil, Roberto Carlos, Marisa Monte, and Jorge Ben, joined by O Rappa and AfroReggae and other bands from the favelas of Rio.

It brings back a flood of memories from performing at the London Olympics. At the time, Niall had thought that was as big as it was ever going to get. That if their second album flopped and he had to go home to Ireland, at least he’d always be able to say that he’d performed at the Olympics. He’d had no idea that it was really still only just getting started for them, that within a couple of years fans would fill Olympic-sized stadiums just to see his band. It was inconceivable.

The Olympics officially closes with a cacophony of fireworks lighting up the night sky, and then it’s time to head home. But it seems like the entire city of Rio is out to celebrate, and the roads leading up to Santa Teresa are blocked. Eventually they decide to get out of the cars, and walk the rest of the way. Every few hundred metres there’s a party spilling out onto the street, whether from a bar or a private home, and they keep stopping for dancing and drinking, drinking and dancing, until it’s almost dawn by the time they make it back to their own house.

Niall’s suitcase is already packed, and he just has time to shower and change his clothes before they need to leave for the airport. Niall and Eoghan says heartfelt thank yous and goodbyes to each member of the team, and Niall promises to come see them when he’s in Dublin in September. Niall saves Eilís for last, wrapping her up in a big hug, and thanking her for taking a chance on him, and pushing him to be his best, and making the last three weeks unforgettable. Eilís tears up, and insists that it was an absolute pleasure to work with him, and that he’s done Ireland proud, and that if he ever decides to abandon music there’s a future for him in TV.

Niall then asks for a favour: he wants to make a donation to the Irish Paralympic Committee, anonymously. Can Eilís put him in touch with the right people? (He ends up donating his entire fee from The Last Lap, which is enough to send 51 families to Rio to see their sons and daughters, sisters and brothers compete in the Paralympic Games. The story gets picked up by the Irish press, noting that a ‘mysterious benefactor’ had funded this trip of a lifetime for families who never would have been able to afford it on their own).

∞∞∞∞

When they land in Paris, Niall says goodbye to Eoghan, hugging him tightly in the arrivals hall before Eoghan has to run to make his connecting flight to Dublin. Niall then exits the airport for the train, and three hours later he’s in Dunkirk.

Harry meets him at the train station, pulling him into the sort of hug that would make you think it had been months, possibly years, since they’d last seen each other, not merely a matter of days. Harry takes Niall’s guitar and carries it for him as they walk the short distance to his hotel, Niall pulling his suitcase behind him.

When they get up to the room Niall flops down flat on his back on the bed. He’d slept on the plane, and again on the train, but he’s still exhausted from the night before – and from the previous three weeks. Harry disappears into the bathroom, but leaves the door open so they can continue talking while he’s inside.

“Hey Ni, were you serious about going on a beach holiday?” Harry calls out.

“Hmmmmm?” Niall responds.

“Because I was thinking if we have a few days between filming wrapping up here and Bobby’s surgery, maybe we could sneak down to Ibiza? Or Mallorca? It’ll be the end of the season, but still perfect beach weather I think. Of course, there are beaches here too, but they’re kind of cold and grey and probably not what you had in mind for this...”

And a moment later Harry emerges from the bathroom in nothing but a tiny pair of yellow shorts. He stretches up to grab onto the top of the doorframe, showing his muscles and tattoos off to maximum effect, and grins at Niall.

It’s enough to snap Niall out of his stupour.

“What the...” he starts, grinning at Harry as he rolls over to get a better look.

Harry then slowly spins around, wiggling his arse in Niall’s direction. The shorts are ridiculously tight, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.

“Are they as good as you remembered them to be?” he asks, smirking at Niall like he already knows the answer.

Niall just licks his lips and nods slowly.

“I got my housekeeper to send them over. Express delivery.”

“I love your housekeeper,” Niall says, eyes glued to the shorts.

“Hey! Eyes up here, Horan,” Harry demands, but instead Niall drops his eyes lower.

“Harry Styles, has anyone ever told you that your legs are magnificent?”

Harry laughs as he walks over to the bed and swings a leg over Niall’s hip to straddle him.

“Yeah, all the time, actually.”

He leans forwards to kiss Niall, and then whispers in his ear, “I like it best coming from you, though.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not on Tumblr but I am on Instagram. Come talk to me there:  
> [super.rich.lads](http://www.instagram.com/super.rich.lads)


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